Entrapment
by Saddened Soul
Summary: Heh, my weapon against 'Impaired'. Henry Townshend believed Walter Sullivan to be dead, but he was apparently wrong, as he has now been thrust into a prison he can't escape from by Walter: his own mind.
1. Prologue

_**Entrapment-Prologue**_

The sound of raindrops clattering against apartment walls greeted Henry Townshend as he stepped back into Room 302. Thunder boomed distantly, and the windows were smeared with the water droplets.

_And now, the news…_

Henry's eyes wandered around the apartment as he advanced forward a few feet. Down the hallway remained the hidden room, the one he had just gone into, or did he?

He did not care about that now; it was a pointless thought, as it had served its purpose.

_Yesterday, in Ashfield and the woods near Silent Hill, the bodies of five men and women were discovered_.

Walter was there, as he pretty much predicted, standing beside the bookshelf, looking out at the window. That confused Henry, actually. There was not anything out there, nothing at all.

_The police reported that all the murders appeared to be the work of the same perpetrator. They are continuing their investigation._

The brunet man stopped, his lips beginning to part; Walter raised a hand though, telling him nothing needed to be said… at least, not now.

_Four of the victims were found dead at the scene, and the fifth victim, a Miss Eileen Galvin, was transported to St. Jerome's Hospital, where she died a short time later._

Walter turned just a little, hand reaching for the stereo knob.

_Police say that Miss Galvin's-_

And with that simple turn, the newscaster's voice was immediately cut off. The only sound still present was that of the rain, and the blond man in the coat looked up at Henry, his streaks of hair casting shadows across his face.

His smile was gone.

"You've returned. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

Henry let out a small chuckle at this, but his expression shifted back almost instantly afterwards. "You, of all people, should know that I couldn't have gotten lost. I _had_ to come back here, whether or not I wanted to."

"No, it's because you wouldn't _allow_ yourself to become lost. The mind is a very complex thing."

"Well, it doesn't matter, not anymore. I wouldn't even think I'd be saying this, but… I'm actually a little happy I ended up in this situation."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because they showed me… They showed me that I don't need to be afraid."

"_They_?" Walter's smile returned for just a moment. "That's a complete lie, Henry, and you know it. _They_ don't exist; you showed yourself what you always knew, but you were too _afraid_ to find out."

"Yeah. You're right… as always, Walter."

Henry sighed deeply, gaze falling to the floor. "But I'm going to finish this… right now."

Walter nodded slowly. "So, then you know what must be done?"

"Yes."

The serial killer's head bobbed up and down once more before he began to approach Henry, who looked up. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the rain died down and light started to pour into the Room 302, which, since the first time he set foot inside of it, looked almost saintly.

He smiled.

Walter's hands curled around his neck in a flash, his grasp tightening. Henry could feel the air unable to reach his lungs, but he did not struggle or fight.

The blonde looked onwards as his victim's stare locked with his. He saw what seemed like tears gather up around Henry's eyes and begin to fall…

He was letting it all go. His life was slipping through his fingers like sand, and he did not mind it at all.

He _wanted_ to die.

Henry felt his knees buckle beneath him, and his legs suddenly gave way. His lungs were gasping for air, trying to resist, until…

_Eileen_…

Walter released him as he collapsed onto the carpet. And he stood there, for just a short instant, watching the brunet lie there, silent.

And he felt… empty. Not sad per se, just… empty…

As he stared at Henry, however, the door suddenly opened slowly, the hinges squeaking. He looked up.

Walter's coat swayed just the tiniest bit… and he smiled.

He then fell, gone.

(About time I did my own SH4 fic, eh? It seems everyone's writing one nowadays… Well, anyways, you probably don't have much of an idea about what's going on, right _SageoWind218_? And that goes for the rest of the readers, but I promise it'll become clearer; this was just the prologue, anyway.)


	2. One

**_Entrapment-One_**

Voices from a far off television set reached Henry's ears, making him groan and roll over on the air mattress. It gave a small squeak under his weight.

He was never really sure why he had even purchased the mattress. It was a few months after he moved into South Ashfield Heights, and he was just absentmindedly strolling throughout the various aisles of the nearest department store, looking for nothing in particular.

And then he found the somewhat large box containing the mattress. Henry did not ever really have any guests, so it was almost a waste of money. _Almost_.

He had slept on it that night, just staring up at the ceiling.

But he was glad he bought the mattress, as he was _never_ going to sleep in that bed ever again. Not after waking up in it and hearing the paramedics and police officers rush Cynthia to the ambulance, or after awakening and finding that Jasper had actually been burned alive.

No, he was not going to think about it. He fidgeted. Automobiles streaked through the streets, and sirens noisily rang out through his head.

People were walking around outside in the apartment hallways, and he heard a few muffled voices. The doorbell.

With another, louder, groan, Henry pushed the two sheets off of him and shuffled to the door. He looked through the peephole and sighed, relieved. It was Eileen.

Unlocking the door he pulled it back a tad, craning his head slightly. She had a concerned expression on her face, but smiled when she saw him. "Oh, Henry! I, uh, didn't know you were still asleep. I was a little worried; I didn't see you this morning, so…"

"It's alright," he replied quietly. "I'm fine."

She nodded. "That's… good to hear… Well, anyway, I also wanted to know if you'd like to, um, go out for a, uh, late breakfast… with me…? I haven't eaten yet…"

She giggled, face a little red. Henry did not seem to acknowledge it, though. "Yeah, sure, just let me get ready."

"Of course! I'll be in my room, when you're ready."

He smiled slightly and closed the door, locking it. Another day to live through.

The water began working again, so he took a quick, warm shower and got dressed, deciding not to iron out his white, buttoned shirt; a _different_ one, by the way.

He was quick enough, though, to get outside of Room 302 at exactly 11:01; twenty minutes since Eileen was at the door.

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Eileen had offered to drive, which was good, because Henry did not feel up to driving. He did not feel too well overall, actually.

He was staring at the gray glove compartment before him, his right arm hanging rather limply beside the passenger door. The radio was on, and the newscaster spoke in quite a bored tone.

"Police are still baffled by the series of four murders which took place just three days ago. They have confirmed that these murders were performed by a copycat of Walter Sullivan, the man who killed ten people in exactly ten days some years ago. Sullivan…"

Eileen was not listening. "Could you… turn it off?" requested Henry softly. She glanced at him and then at the radio, swiftly switching it off. "Sorry about that; was it bothering you?"

He attempted a weak smile. "A little."

She smiled at him once more, but his head shifted to the right, eyes looking through the laminated glass and at the moving buildings. Then, for a split second, he saw _him_. _He_ was standing within the mass of people walking down the sidewalk.

But _he_ was gone just as suddenly as he appeared.

"Henry, are you feeling okay?"

"Huh…? Oh, sorry. What?"

"Do you feel okay?" she asked again, more sternly this time.

"I'm a bit nauseous, but-,"

"You didn't have to come along if you don't feel well, Henry," she stated rather parentally. Henry only shook his head. "No, I needed the air."

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"I'll be right back with your orders," said the waitress with that fake grin and tone, and Henry could tell she was having a bad day already as he handed her the laminated menu. It had started raining after they arrived at the restaurant. It was a new one, but Henry had no qualms with it so far.

He meekly pulled the coffee cup closer to him, staring at the brownish liquid as it swished and turned…

"Are you sure you're all right, Henry?"

He was actually starting to get agitated by Eileen's constant concern. He was _fine_! It was just an upset stomach; not a big deal. Or… was it? Was he really okay? He had noticed ever since he got back from the hospital. He was slightly pale and no longer had much of an appetite. And the temperature… it was so cold everywhere… He suddenly felt horrible.

The bile was going up and down, his stomach churning.

"Henry?"

"…I'll be right back…" he murmured fast as he stood from the booth and rushed to the restroom down the hall before him…

…and he stumbled through the door, almost slipping on something wet.

Henry ignored this and he quickly got hold of the edge of one of the sinks. There was a foul odor about, and that damned white paint only made him feel worse. Henry shuddered, noticing beads of sweat run down his forehead.

His eyes met with that of his reflection's, and he ground his teeth, fighting back the urge to puke right then and there.

He was convinced. Something was wrong with him. But _what_?

"What… the hell is… this…?" he muttered while closing his eyes.

"Something the matter, Henry?"

He might not have heard that voice too often, but he could spot it in a crowd of roaring people. His eyes shot open and he saw Walter Sullivan standing right behind him through the mirror.

With a yelp he fell back in surprise, but was quickly shoved to the tiled floor. He landed on his back, squinting. It was difficult to tell, but that was most definitely Walter Sullivan standing above him.

"No… No way!" he exclaimed while failing horribly at trying to crawl away.

"I think you should calm down Hen-,"

"You're dead! _Dead_!" yelled back the brunet feebly as he somehow got up and leaned against the wall, breathing frantic.

Walter folded his arms, sighing. "Don't make this any more difficult. I know it is not easy for you to go through this, so you _must_ calm down and listen."

"_What the hell are you talking about_? There's no way-,"

"Yes there is, but before I can explain to you what is going you have to quiet down."

"You sick, psychotic… bastard… What-,"

"These are only natural side affects. I myself had never believed it when they spoke about it at Wish House, but I see now it really is working."

Henry was barely listening, more attentive to finding an escape route. He saw it, the door was still unlocked. Mustering up his strength he made a dash to the door, quickly grasping and turning the knob… to no avail. It was locked. _Locked_. He had not touched the damn thing… or had he…?

"Please, Henry. You can't get away, in any case."

The brunet slowly turned, falling against the wall. He looked up desperately at Walter who took a seat in front of him. "I wouldn't be wasting my energy, Henry; it's only going to get worse."

"_What_ is going to get worse…?" inquired Henry faintly, no longer having the strength to fight back.

"My transference into your conscience."

"What the-,"

"Your body is having a hard time with me moving in. I'm sure you can understand." Walter stood, looking around the restroom. "Yes, you killed me, good, good, but I managed to seep myself, or rather, what was left of myself, into your conscience as you warped from my word as it crumbled. Think of it as… a last resort."

"So _what_? Are you alive, or dead, or-,"

"Technically, I'm dead, and I apologize for interrupting, but you would've rambled-,"

" '_Rambled_'?"

"Well yes, when someone is distressed they usually do that, now-,"

" '_Distressed_'?"

Walter disregarded this and continued. "I had never intended to go through with this, but it is indeed working, so you are going to have to cooperate."

Henry winced as he got up, ignoring the pain in his legs. "_No_!" he shouted while slamming himself into the door, somehow getting it open.

"Help!" he screamed. "_Help_!" Henry ran out of the hallway and into the main room, people standing in surprise and others staring at him oddly. His head spun from side to side and he saw the nearest attendees rushing at him, but he paid no concern.

"Help, please! He's after me! _Walter Sullivan_!"

He heard mutterings arise and saw panic begin to spread throughout the crowd… then he saw Eileen running towards him. "Henry!"

He looked back at Walter, who was casually stepping out of the hallway.

"Are you all _blind_? _He's right there_!" he yelled again, pointing at the blonde.

"Henry, what are you talking about?" said Eileen worriedly as Henry saw Walter smile that blasted smile. His head suddenly felt like it was splitting in half upon seeing that smile, and he fell to his knees.

"Can't you all… see him…?"

He fell, that smile still in his mind as total blackness took over.

(First of all, this isn't a weapon against _Gaia Faye _or 'Impaired'; I was joking. Second, I don't know. Hopefully this chapter helped a little.)


	3. Two

(Fine, _Gaia Faye, _'pinpoint'.)

**_Entrapment_-_Two_**

Darkness. Total darkness. All around him. It was choking him, and he tried to open his eyes, only to discover he could not. He attempted again, this time trying to speak, trying to move. Nothing, of course; his eyelids felt as if they were cemented against his skin, and his voice was completely gone…

He felt his hands twitch, his heart beating slower and slower… Was he _dying_? It felt like he was sinking deeper into something, something tremendously cold. A shiver ran down his spine… Spine… He was paralyzed, as if the darkness caught hold of his body, keeping it firmly in place as it drifted…

That was when he saw it… a light, barely shining. He could not have reached for it if he had tried, but it gave off a nice warmth, something similar to an embrace, and he suddenly felt the darkness melting away. It lost its hold of him. His face burned with pain as began to try and talk once more. His eyelids started to lift ever so slightly…

"Wake up, Henry."

Multiple images flashed in front of his eyes before they shot open, feeling once again filling up his senses and body.

It was hard for him to tell where he was at first, but then he realized he was back in Room 302. His body felt heavy for a second, but the fatigue that had drenched him before was totally gone.

Henry slowly got to his feet, using his leg for support. His head turned from side to side, examining his surroundings. 'Room 302,' he thought, 'how'd I get here?'

"You're mistaken."

The brunet spun around, face to face with Walter Sullivan. "What… What are you…?" murmured Henry while taking some steps back, attempting to turn and rush to the door, but his legs felt like liquid suddenly, and he fell back against it.

"I've done some thinking, if you would call it that, and I have come to, what I think is, a satisfactory conclusion," stated the blond as he approached Henry, who looked up at him fearfully.

"What… What the hell…? How… How _did I get back here_? What about Eileen, and-,"

"You're still at the restaurant, Henry, lying unconscious, with Miss Galvin and a host of other people all around you. I had to step in, by the way, since, with the way you were acting, you would have landed us both in prison."

Henry, without taking his eyes off of Walter, climbed back onto his feet. His fists clenched, and he sighed. "What do you mean, 'we'? And more importantly, _where are we_?"

Walter motioned for him to calm down and stepped forward. "Well, it should be obvious, but that leads me to my next point. Now, please pay attention, Henry, as I'm not completely sure of the situation. For your first question, anyway, like I said before, I'm now existent within your mind."

"Just hold on, you can't-,"

In that very instant Walter's left hand shot out and grasped Henry's right shoulder firmly. Before the brunet could even react he was forcefully slammed against the door. Walter released him from his grasp, smiling malevolently at Henry. "Are you going to pay attention now?"

The other man gave a meek nod, and Walter's grin grew. "Good… We can't be wasting our time… Now, as you know, I managed to enter your mind, which is where we are now."

"But…" Henry stood straight and kept his back against the door. "How is _that_? I don't-,"

"Your brain has to conjure up some representation, correct? For example, when you dream something, your brain creates images for you to see and follow, since you are, basically, dormant. I suppose the best example would be when you traveled through the portal to gain access to my own world."

Henry bowed his head slightly. A moment or two passed before he raised his head again. "And why… why did you choose me… for this? I mean, I wouldn't have wanted Eileen to be… but…" He trailed off quietly, his gaze falling back to the floor.

Walter turned away, still smiling. "Your conscious was the one directly connected with mine… It would have been more tedious with Miss Galvin, but still possible… In any case, you must be exhausted, Henry…"

"What does… that have to do with anything?" responded the brunet somewhat calmly, his voice cracked. "Oh, it has to do with everything…"

In a blur of motion, both Walter's hands clasped around Henry's head, to which the other man reacted by grabbing the blonde's wrists and attempting, in futile, to free himself. It was impossible, of course, as Henry felt like his head was suddenly being torn in half, his vision distorting. The taller man just watched, a glint of happiness apparent in his eyes.

The brunet saw, in a brief second, his lips parting, but his hearing had long been shot down… Everything was soon black…

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…and then his eyes opened. He did not recall even trying to raise his eyelids, but they opened nonetheless, and this, for a miniscule amount of time, frightened him. However, Henry Townshend looked around, unaware of his surroundings at first. He was sitting in the same booth he had been in earlier, his hands resting lazily near his crotch.

"He's waking up!"

He did not recognize the voice, but he still looked over to where it had come from… and gasped when he saw what he did.

_He_ was sitting up from the floor, with Eileen and a number of other people around him. Henry stood up from his seat, eyes wide as he saw himself sit up and begin to look over himself, before looking up and seeing Henry standing, surprise smeared across his face. He nodded in acknowledgement of Henry, who backed away, perplexed.

"Sir, are you all right?" questioned one of the attendants huddled around him

"Yeah, Henry?"

Eileen had knelt down beside him, and he turned to stare at her with a blank stare. "Uh… I'm… I'm fine…"

"Are you sure?" asked a waitress nearby with a squeaky voice. Her face was full of freckles, and she was frowning. Why?

"We were about to call 9-1-1, but then you woke up; you were out for about a minute," informed Eileen suddenly, but he glanced from the waitress to the floor.

"Could we… go…? I'm not very hungry anymore, anyway…"

"Yeah… sure…" replied Eileen, still staring at him worriedly. Henry, who remained near the booth, watched helplessly.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, "I'm right here! _Right here_!" No one even gave him a glimpse, except his look-a-like, who grinned that same grin...

'No…' thought Henry gravely as the grin dropped and the man began to follow Eileen outside. Henry slowly went after them, ignoring everyone else as he aimlessly followed himself. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and Henry, the one who could be seen and heard, stopped for a moment and looked up towards the sky.

"Henry?" Eileen inquired as she halted outside the driver's door of her vehicle. The man sighed and proceeded to the car. Henry, who was not far behind, opened the right back door while the other got into the passenger seat. He hesitated, though, hand upon the handle.

'I can't just let him go…'

The brunet grimaced and entered the car.

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As Henry sat, very tense, in his seat, he tried to sort his thoughts out. His first thought, strangely, was how the weather had improved so quickly. He was not exactly sure why he was even curious about that at the moment, but his attention was stolen when the car had stopped, and he noticed there was a red light before them.

"I don't… want to sound like your mom or something, Henry, but…"

The brunet turned to her, thinking she was referring to him, however, he realized she was speaking to the other one. That was something else: had she not noticed him opening the door?

"You're not, you're just worried," remarked the other Henry plainly, affected just a little by the sentence.

"…Well, I mean, you… said _his_ name back there… You've been acting weird the past few days too…" She paused and placed her hand on his shoulder, and it caused him to look to her surprisingly. "Walter's dead Henry, he isn't going to pop out and try… You know… Just… don't worry about it; the bastard's dead… _Dead_."

Meanwhile, Henry stared at her in astonishment. He felt like screaming at her, "Just shut up, Eileen! He's right there!" but that was pointless. Fortunately, Walter smiled.

"I know that, I'm fine. Really, _Eileen_, I am," he responded while gently grasping her hand and starting to lower it.

Henry ground his teeth, feeling the sudden urge to act. "_Don't touch her_!" he snapped. Immediately, Walter lowered Henry's _real_ right hand, a smile gradually forming on his face. "You should go now."

"What?"

A honk from an automobile behind told her what he meant, and she looked back to the street and pressed on the pedal. All the while, Henry leaned back. He glared heatedly at himself, and for a second, felt a twinge of jealousy.

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Frank Sunderland found himself humming a tune that he could not recall the name of. He knew he had heard it before… Maybe during one of those old road trips he and his wife used to go on. James would usually tag along when he was younger, but as he aged and became more engrossed in his education, his activities with his parents lessened and lessened.

Frank sighed sadly as he continued sweeping the foyer of South Ashfield Heights. He wondered if James was out there somewhere, perhaps reading, which he almost always did in his spare time. Maybe if Mary had not died…

The entrance door opened, and he looked up to see Eileen Galvin walk inside, with Henry Townshend behind her. If Frank had known who was hiding behind Henry's face, he might have said something…

"Hi, Mr. Sunderland," greeted Eileen as she approached him.

"Howdy," he replied cheerfully, shielding his actual emotions. She nodded and began to converse with him, but Walter was not concerned with that. He gradually made his way up the stairs, gaze roaming around the interior. Henry's brown bangs fell across his face, and he swatted them away instantly.

Henry, however, was standing in the center of the room, watching his stolen body advance up the steps to the third floor. He knew where he was going, obviously. Room 302. However, the brunet was in no rush. If Walter was going to stick with what he said before, he could trust that his former attacker would not do anything odd. He owed him that much anyway.

Henry still did not believe it. In barely an hour or two he had been thrust out of his own body by a man who had attempted, at various times, to take his life. Still, though, he was curious about Walter's motives… and extremely angry. He dashed after him.

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He found Walter just standing outside the door, staring at the numbers, '**302**' with great interest. Henry had thought he would have gone in by now, but really did not care; he just wanted his body back, to feel secure… Yes, that was true. Since he had blacked out earlier he had not felt safe at all, and he was not entirely sure why. He knew he was not within his body… or was he? Was he just a projection of something asleep? Was that what Walter had meant?

"I should apologize, Henry, but you'll have your body back soon enough."

"So you _can_ see me!" The brunet ran up in front of his own face, scowling. "What are you _trying to do_? I… I don't even know what the hell's going on!"

Walter held up a hand, smirking. "This was just an experiment… I had to know what exactly I could do."

"An _experiment_? That's…" Henry clenched his fists, sighing. "Just… Just…"

"Is something the matter?"

Both turned to see Eileen walking down the hallway towards them. She had her purse slung over her right shoulder. "No," answered Walter speedily, a grin playing on his face once again. "I was just thinking."

"Eileen…" murmured Henry as she smiled and entered her own apartment room. "Like I said, I'll return your body back to you soon enough, Henry, so please, calm down."

" 'Calm down'? You… Don't _you_ understand? You do all these things, but you just don't understand how it affects people, do you?" inquired Henry sternly. He glared at Walter, feeling sick all of a sudden. Every time he spoke, and the words came rolling out of _his_ mouth…

"Perhaps I don't, but I have my intentions."

"What does that mean? That as long as you get what you want, it's _fine_? The world… it doesn't just revolve around one person! People have feelings, emotions… They're not just tools you can use and then throw away as if they never existed!"

Was he yelling? Henry was not that type of person, but it did not seem to bother Walter in the slightest. "Are you saying I am a selfish person? I have done nothing that is completely centered on personal gain."

"That doesn't justify killing nineteen people! You think it's not selfish, but that _mother_ of yours doesn't _exist_! Maybe your _actual_ mother does, but-"

His fist collided with his face, and Henry was down before he even realized Walter had been struck by the statement.. "_You're_ the one who _doesn't understand_, Henry," spat Walter dangerously. "Mother exists. I _know_ she does. That is _all_ I have to understand."


	4. Three

_**Entrapment-Three**_

_"Mom! Let me in… Mom!"_

_"Hey there, little Walter… just a bit longer now…" With those words the coated man looked back at his final sacrifice, grinning with delight. He let out a chuckle, and then started laughing, his arms held up towards a bright light floating at the top of the room. They were here. In the womb. And if Henry Townshend did not do something, they would both die._

_The brunet man glanced behind the serial killer; his expression softened a little. This was it. He could not fail this time. Cynthia, Jasper, Andrew, Richard… He could not save them, but now there was a chance._

_"Henry…"_

_The calling of his name brought him back to the situation at hand. Almost as if on cue, Eileen Galvin began to slowly creep towards the fast spinning spiked sphere located within a vast amount of what was, most likely, human blood, in the center of the chamber._

_"…You're it…" continued Walter. "The twenty-first Sacrament… The Final Sign…"_

_He took a few steps forward. His footsteps on the stones beneath them echoed throughout the gigantic room as he spoke, and a chill traveled down Henry's spine. "…The Receiver of Wisdom…"_

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"Hey, Mister, are you okay?"

Henry Townshend let out a cough, which sent a dull throb to the front of his skull. He groaned in response to the pain. "Mister…?"

"Who…" he mumbled, hands moving to his sides to lift him from the ground, or what he presumed to be the ground, as a drop of sweat fell down his face. He opened his eyes.

He was sitting up on a sidewalk of some sort, the glow of a streetlamp covering him. The cement beneath him was rough, and he could make out the outlines of houses hidden in the surrounding darkness… or, _were_ they houses?

"Mister?"

"What?"

Henry turned his head to his left, seeing a young girl standing beside him. It occurred to him she was who had been calling to him before… She seemed familiar, wearing a somewhat large witch outfit. Her cherry red hair curled down her shoulders and her emerald eyes bore into him.

"What… What is a little girl like you doing here…?"

Her expression contorted suddenly, as if she had been insulted. With her hands firmly against her hips, she exclaimed at him angrily, "I am _not_ little!"

Henry blinked a few times, trying to think of how he knew this girl. He then noticed she was holding an orange plastic bag of some sort; the yellow face of a pumpkin was etched on both sides of the bag, from what he could tell.

Was she… trick-or-treating?

"Why are you staring at me like that? I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"You, uh, look like someone I know…" replied Henry as he got to his feet quickly. "Where are we, by the way?"

"You don't even know where we are…? Hmm…" The girl looked away, seemingly troubled. The streetlamp above Henry flickered, making him look up at it. The light it gave off had weakened slightly… Henry shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold.

The girl was now staring into the darkness ahead of them. She lifted her right hand to point forward. "What's wrong?" asked the brunet, inching towards her.

"Something's… coming…" she answered frightfully, backing up against him. Henry was not sure at first; he squinted and strained his ears. All was silent, aside from their breathing. He moved away from her and began ahead…

"Wait, please… Don't go… It's… not safe…" she said quietly, remaining under the blanket of light. Henry looked back at her. He flinched. There was something wrong. He had not noticed it before, but something was definitely wrong.

And then it hit him. The same, agonizing pain erupted in his head like before, only much worse. He screamed loudly, being forced to his knees as he grasped his head tightly, pulling at his hair. He literally thought his head was being torn in half by a pair of powerful, invisible hands.

But then it was over, and he fell onto the cold, hard concrete of the subway floor. He could just barely make out the sound of a subway car from afar; he was too drained to pay attention though.

His hearing had not failed him, however. His sight, although fairly blurred, showed him the car stopping beside his platform. The girl was behind him, in the exact same spot, whimpering and trying not to cry as she watched the doors slide open and the person walk out.

Henry had no idea why she was so distressed, but he felt that coldness return as the man approached his fatigued body. The brunet saw only a pair of black boots before the man grabbed his right arm roughly and yanked him up, holding him loosely by the arm.

His vision was recovering gradually, and he could see that this person was wearing a black raincoat of some sort, the hood hiding his face. He had on faded jeans as well.

"_Henry…_"

Did he speak? Henry could not tell… he had not heard anything, but he acknowledged the words, as if they were there.

"_Henry… Henry… Henry… The last one… the Receiver… the Knowledgeable…_"

Was it… Walter? Could it…

"_Henry…_"

No. Walter would not approach him like this.

"_Henry… Henry… Henry…_"

It was at that moment that Henry found the will to speak. "Who… are _you_?" he demanded, his voice cracked. The hold on his arm tightened, and the man smiled underneath his hood.

"_The Receiver… the Knowledgeable… the last one…_"

Henry felt his strength returning, as well as his senses. He was very much aware of the situation now. "Tell me…!" he hissed, but the man only continued to repeat his name, over and over.

"_Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry…_"

"Be quiet…"

"_The Receiver… the Knowledgeable…"_

"Please… just be _quiet_…"

"_Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry…_"

The brunet ground his teeth, his irritation growing with each word out of the man's mouth…

"_The RECEIVER…_ _the KNOWLEDGEABLE…_"

"Just shut up!" yelled Henry suddenly as he struck at the man with his free arm, only to have it pass through him as if he was mist…

"_Henry…_"

"I thought something was wrong."

The man released the brunet, who stumbled backwards. He regained his composure quickly enough, just in time to turn behind him and see who had spoken.

It took him a second to recognize the man's navy coat and long, greasy blonde hair. He was sitting against the wall, on a brown, tattered blanket, his arms laid upon his knees. Walter chuckled as he stood up, glancing from the girl-who was still whimpering in fright- to Henry.

"Hmm…" He smiled and approached the other man. "Time to go, Henry."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Now wake up."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry's eyes shot open, landing on the blades of the fan above his bed. His bed. He sat up, his gaze wandering around himself. 'I'm… back in Room 302…' he thought as he pushed the sheets away and got onto his feet.

"Had a nice nap, Henry? Hopefully you've cooled down somewhat."

He looked to his left and there was Walter, standing beside his desk with that grin on his face. Henry sighed and took a seat on his bed, the springs straining under his weight. He was still for a moment before burying his head in his hand.

"Why are you… doing this to me…?"

"Doing what? I gave you your body back, for now at least, and you're still in relatively good condition."

"That's not what I mean… Why… Why couldn't you just have stayed dead?"

Walter nodded and stepped up beside him. "I wondered about that too, but there's not much sense to dwell on it now, is there?"

Henry sighed again. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That guy… the one with the raincoat on…"

"I'm… not sure what you mean."

Henry raised his head and gave Walter a confused look. "You didn't see him? You were there… weren't you?"

The blonde shrugged and left the room, leaving Henry to his thoughts. 'I saw him… I know I did… but… how did I…"

A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and Henry had no choice but to go and answer it. He saw Walter peering out of the window near the bookcase. He seemed to be greatly interested by something outside. For a second Henry felt like asking him what he was so intrigued by, but he decided against it. Whatever Walter was staring at, it did not concern him in the slightest.

He reached for the doorknob and turned it, swinging the door open. He had not even checked who it was through the peephole, which he usually did. "Um… hello, Mr. Sunderland."

The superintendent seemed to have been distracted, as he was looking over Henry's shoulder at the window. He shook it off and looked back to the tenant.

"Oh, uh, excuse me, Henry, but, uh…" He scratched his chin, thinking of what to say. "I just wanted to see if you were okay… thought I heard some funny noises coming from your room earlier."

"Noises? No… I'm fine, either way…"

"Ah, good… good… Well, um, be careful now."

"Yeah."

The brunet closed the door as Frank walked away. He leaned against it and rubbed his eyes.

"Someone entered South Ashfield Heights."

"What?"

"I said-,"

"I know what you said," Henry stated. "How long ago?"

"About two minutes; why?"

"I… I don't know…" He rushed back to the door, looking out through the peephole. He was suddenly very cold. "What was the person wearing…?" he asked while glancing back at Walter. The blonde had sat down on the couch, folding his arms.

"A raincoat, I think. Black, it was. Hmm…"

(Meh. A bit of a bland chapter, in my opinion.)


	5. Four

_**Entrapment-Four**_

Henry sighed, moving away from the door. 'Black… _black_…' He ran the word through his mind several times. There was something about it now. Something that bothered him. It had not been there before.

He suddenly appreciated the dreary gray of the apartment walls, much more than he had before. It was not because the gray seemed comforting to him, like when he first moved in two years ago; no, it was because the gray was not completely black, nor completely white. And it was not a vibrant red or yellow, or a cool blue or green. Gray could not affect his mood.

"What were you dreaming about?" asked Walter, without even the slightest hint of curiosity in his voice. That was strange, since if it was not something that was bothering him, why would he be asking?

"Huh?"

"While you were asleep, what were you dreaming about?"

For a moment Henry forgot about the person wearing the black raincoat. He forgot about the color altogether.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

"You don't sound curious."

It was then that the brunet realized that Walter may or may not have known about something… something probably important.

He folded his arms and leaned back against the door. "You're acting… _different_, too. Not with that calm _superiority_ either…." he said, thinking. He was speaking to this man-this _murderer_-as if he had no qualms with him being there.

"How would you like me to act, Henry? I'm no longer superior to you, nor was I ever was. Can a superior being be slain by an inferior one?"

That was true. Maybe a little too true. He _had_ killed him. Did that make him a killer as well? But it was in self-defense; _Walter_ was the one who sealed him from the outside world; _Walter _was the one who killed all those people, not him; _Walter _was the one who attacked him and Eileen; _Walter_…

"…No…" mumbled Henry in response to the blond's question. "But… it was still there… the feeling…"

Walter stood from his place on the couch. "Well then, what were you dreaming?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"I already gave you my answer: curiosity."

"Wrong. You're not curious, so if you're not, why do you have to know?"

Walter just stared at him. "…When I went to sleep, earlier, in your body, I tried searching for you, in order to return your body to you, but also to speak with you… The problem, however, was that I could not find you. I then supposed you were, well, lost."

"Lost?"

"Correct. You were lost within your mind, your memories."

Henry closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. "And if I'm… _lost_ in my memories… how is that… uh, I don't know, important?"

"It's important because… if you submerge yourself too deeply in your memories… sometimes you can't get back."

Although Henry did not show his fear, his stomach tightened. "That girl…" he found himself saying, "I… think I remember now…"

_Black_. He shuddered. "I'm… going to the store…"

Walter cocked his head to the right, his expression bemused. "Why exactly?"

"To buy something… I don't know what…" he replied before reaching out over the kitchen counter to grab his car keys. His wallet was situated in his back jean pocket. He then turned and opened Room 302's front door, before he looked back to see Walter was gone.

"What the hell…?"

He faced forward again and nearly fell back, startled as Walter stood right in the hallway outside the apartment room. He had that eerie grin on his face again, not like just a minute ago, when he was as grave as a stone.

"Oh yeah…" muttered the brunet. "You're coming too…"

He sighed and continued outside, seeing Eileen as she herself left her own room. She flashed him a smile and wave, and he did the same… before noticing Walter standing beside him.

"Eileen," he called, a tad shaky. She turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Could I… talk to you about something?"

She gave him a confused look. "Um, sure, Henry, what's up?"

He looked back at Walter. "It's… Could we talk… somewhere a bit more private?"

Eileen glanced around, and then towards her apartment room. "Alright… come on in." As she walked back inside Henry looked back to Walter, who just stood there, as if he was waiting for Henry to follow her. The brunet man sighed and went into the room.

Walter did not go immediately, and looked to his left. There was Frank Sunderland, standing in the hallway. He was staring right at him, or, more accurately, right through him, but Walter could see the small amount of acknowledgement in the older man's eyes. He definitely saw _something_, but whether or not it was the blond was the question.

Frank squinted towards Room 302, and Walter turned to see the door open, revealing a person. Not a normal person, though. It was impossible to determine the age of the male, as he was wearing a raincoat. A black one at that.

Walter recognized him as the man-or boy- who had entered South Ashfield Heights before. But he _knew_ this human had not ventured into Room 302, so if he did not, how could he walk out of it.

He was hooded, brown bangs obscured, but his smile was clear. Why was he smiling?

"That man's son," he said suddenly to Walter, "had something horrible done to him. How horrible, however, depends on the sin he committed." His smirk grew. "What happened to Bob paled in comparison."

The man chuckled and walked away, glancing into Room 303 before stopping near Frank. "…However, what will happen to him … that is something… _truly_ horrible."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry took a seat on the small sofa Eileen had in the living room area, and bowed his head. He was contemplating on how to explain to Eileen the events of the day; the sky was already a stunning display of reds and oranges.

Before he knew it she was beside him, her expression similar to that of a concerned mother. "Henry?"

He sighed. "It's weird, you know… Ever since I moved here, my life started going downhill. I lost that one job at the restaurant, two of my cameras broke… Things, usually bad ones, just happened to occur every now and then, but I never really got angry about them; it was like something was keeping me calm and happy throughout those two years…"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "And that same thing stayed with me during that week I was stuck in my room… but… ever since he died, right in front of me… that certain thing's been gone. And if it's still there, it's having more of an opposite effect on me now."

The female brunette slowly rubbed his shoulder. "Henry…"

"You're the only one I can talk to about this type of stuff."

"What… What do you mean?"

"You're the only who'd understand, because, you see, unless I'm going crazy, he's back."

Eileen just looked at him, but the words sunk in quickly enough. She shook her head. "Henry, you're not making sense. I know you're under a lot of stress, but Walter… He's dead. He can't, he can't do anything anymore."

Walter was standing in the doorway now, his eyes locked on Henry. He was not smiling.

The brunet closed his eyes. "…No… I'm serious, Eileen. He isn't exactly back, but he's not dead either. He's… damn, how do I explain it…?"

There was a silence. Walter walked into the room, staring at a certain spot on the floor. "Right there…" he muttered, "Right there…"

"Look, Henry," spoke Eileen somewhat shakily. "You need to rest. This is hard, for both of us, but we have to get past it."

He remained quiet, watching Walter lean against the wall ahead of him. Henry sighed and stood. "…Maybe you're right..."

She smiled and nodded. "You just need some rest, okay, Henry?"

"Yeah… okay…"


End file.
